


Thoughts of the Foolish

by miss_aligned



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Angst, F/M, Mass Effect 2, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-11
Updated: 2016-05-11
Packaged: 2018-06-07 20:56:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6823795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miss_aligned/pseuds/miss_aligned
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the encounter with Kaidan on Horizon, Shepard thinks long and hard about what he'd said. She's not entirely sure what the truth might be, but she knows she has to keep going. Difficult and confusing as it might be, there's no other choice.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thoughts of the Foolish

She stared down at her right hand. It looked the same as it ever had. It wasn’t remarkable, notable, or extraordinary in any way. While it had built something of a reputation for itself for pulling a trigger, and doing so a lot, it was otherwise plain.

Shepard shifted her gaze to the left one. It, like its counterpart, was average. A literal lifetime ago, she’d quietly and absurdly hoped that it would have been adorned with some sort of symbol that proclaimed to the world that she’d found someone willing to put up with her attitude, issues, and shortcomings. ‘Til death do us part? Yeah, something like that. She’d gone about all of that in the wrong order, it seemed. The hand was still unembellished, but that hand was hers. Wasn’t it?

She dragged her head upwards and forced herself to look at that reflection. There were dark circles around her eyes from many sleepless nights, resting with a gun nearby in case this whole Cerberus thing completely backfired and she had to fight her way to freedom. Jumping at every irregular noise in the event she needed to don her suit in a hurry and prepare for the Normandy to explode in a giant Collector-driven fireball. Despite these constant bouts of paranoia, what troubled her now above everything was the confrontation in her last mission. One that she had hoped would have gone much differently than it had. Kaidan’s words echoed in her mind and tore at her heart.

_I thought we had something, Shepard. Something real. I… I loved you._

While the commander had thought she’d braced herself for the lapse of time that had occurred between her death and her reunion with the man she still considered to be the love of her life on Horizon, nothing she’d confronted before had prepared her for the wound that erupted from a simple use of past tense. She’d headbutt a Reaper without a second thought, but she internally crumbled at one man confessing his long-gone love for her. Shepard silently chastised herself for being so juvenile and idealistic in the first place. This was the reason that those infernal regs existed within the Alliance, after all. She’d been foolish to expect anything but heartbreak.

_Thinking you were dead tore me apart. How could you put me through that?_

Even when she knew that Kaidan hadn’t fully understood or accepted what had happened in the time between her demise at Alchera and now, it hurt to hear those words. She’d never intended to die. She’d never aimed to cause him pain over loss or anything else. Ever. She’d never envisioned being brought back to life and placing herself in his path, expecting him to accept what he saw or felt or dreamed. This was an impossible situation for them both, and the thought of it brought tears to her eyes. She’d been so irrational to think that he’d accept her with open arms, bearing the colors of Cerberus as she was. Shepard was exceedingly wary and cautious in regards to her dealings with the organization and its leader, as she was well aware of the depths of their dysfunction. Hindsight being much more accurate, she shouldn’t have expected Kaidan to return to her side like some sort of lovesick puppy. He was a strong man with his own goals and convictions, as he always had been. She should have known better than to try and sway them with her own feelings, thoughts, love, and devotion.

_I did move on. At least, I thought I did. But now we’ve got reports about you and Cerberus._

As Shepard stared herself in the face, she saw the tears slowly rise and blur her vision. He’d moved on. At the very least he’d made the attempt. It was a more difficult task than she’d anticipated to convince herself that sometimes this was how relationships ended, that it was normal for people to move on and grow apart from one another. It was challenging to accept that the one person who knew you inside and out really didn’t care or desire to any longer. The individual she’d hoped would come to understand her insane situation had no interest. He’d moved on, and for reasons that were entirely beyond her influence. She’d nearly forgotten what it was to be without control. This was uncharted territory.

_You turned your back on everything we believed in. You betrayed the Alliance. You betrayed me._

The figurative knife in Shepard’s heart twisted cruelly. Some part of her could understand the incredulity, given the length of time that had apparently passed in her absence. The look in his eyes, however, that pain that she knew she’d caused, was seared into her memory. That edge in his voice that had been spurred by her failure… she hadn’t adequately prepared herself for the onslaught of his vitriol and his hurt. He’d suffered so long and it was entirely her fault. He called it as he saw it, too. Betrayal of the most devastating kind. What kind of commander… friend… lover… would do that?

_I want to believe you, Shepard. But I don’t trust Cerberus. They could be using the threat of a Reaper to manipulate you._

She knew better than to fully trust Cerberus. Part of her regretted taking her lieutenant along for so many of those investigations in times that seemed so far gone, to see first-hand the horrors that the organization had caused. Oddly enough, the idea of being killed and resurrected, funded, and fully supported by a terrorist organization hadn’t exactly crossed her mind back then. Now, having become a pawn of The Illusive Man and his association, or at least having the appearance of doing so, she felt like a fool.

_…maybe you feel like you owe Cerberus because they saved you. Maybe you’re the one who’s not thinking straight._

Perhaps he was right. It was possible that he could see what she couldn’t. Were these hands really the ones she’d always remembered? Were they the appendages of a clone who was created to unite the galaxy for some ridiculous cause? How could she know what was true and what was false, when she’d been off the grid for two years? It was not at all beyond the scope of belief that Cerberus could have been lying to her since she awoke abruptly in a lab not so long ago. Miranda and Jacob could have been stellar actors, set on accomplishing the goals of an equally disturbed organization, without concern for a pining Alliance soldier with nothing but whimsical dreams to sustain her.

_You’ve changed. But I still know where my loyalties lie. I’m an Alliance solider. Always will be._

As she stared at herself in the mirror, eyes red and cheeks stained with tears, the infamous Commander Shepard questioned herself. She’d once been loyal, tough, and confident. What she saw now was nothing like that. Perhaps Shepard really had perished over Alchera years ago. Maybe Cerberus had just found a way to create the absolute worst kind of husk, one that could fool nearly everyone into believing the impossible.

A strangled sob escaped her before she bent and splashed water on her face, a cold reality check that she sorely needed. She couldn’t change what had happened or take back anything she and Kaidan had done or said to one another. There was a mission at hand, and if all turned out as planned, their suffering would end soon, anyway. Things would return to the way they were before their paths crossed on Horizon, and with any luck, she would have taken care of the problem that loomed over the galaxy in her wake. Husk or not, she was going to finish the job. He would have a chance to fully move on and live a happy life.

She patted her face dry with a towel held by those familiar hands. They could still signal orders. They could still kill. She didn’t need anyone to hold them as she walked her path. Whether she’d been truly brought back from death or animated purely as a symbol for the reckless to follow, she intended to make the most of it.

She’d prove her worth to herself… with these hands.


End file.
